The Rebel and the Bookish – by Stephanie Scott #6
“Would you believe I still have the T-shirt?” Ian grins. He nods toward the kids. “D.A.R.E. was the Drug Abuse Resistance Education school program back in the ‘80s and ‘90s. I used to be terrified I’d accidentally ingest barbiturates.”
Angelica lightly shoves at him. “Dad, no one’s using drugs. We ate pizza rolls and chips.”
I expect more protest from the kids about us joining their game, but two of them give up their chairs for us at the table.
Ian and I fill out character sheets and roll for stats. I learned D&D from a library program years ago and sometimes monitor game night at the library. He nudges me. “A rogue, eh? Feeling rebellious?” His eyes fill with naughty promises.
I grin back at him. “Maybe.”
Emma comes over to me, leaning close. “Am I in trouble?” She lowers her voice. “I thought you didn’t like Mr. Kolacki.”
“We’ll talk when we get home.” I pause. “And we’re…friends.” Okay, two conversations need to happen when we get home.
Ian watches Emma retreat to the kitchen where the rest of the kids are hanging out until us olds finish setting up our characters.
“You raised a good kid,” he says.
I look into his brown eyes that somehow see all of me, now and into the past. “You too. You’re a good dad.”
Those trouble-brewing eyes soften. “Can I take you to dinner? Someday soon, away from these pesky children?”
“Add in some live music and you’ll sweep me off my feet.”
He moves a strand of hair back from my face. “It’s a date.”
The butterflies. They’re moshing in my stomach.
Honestly? The only person in trouble in this moment is yours truly. Ian brushes his knee against mine. The kids are alright. But me? I’m headed for heartbreak. No, not heartbreak.
Just Ian and his heart.
Six Months Later
Ian
I’m nervous. I always get nervous before shows, but this feels different. Small venue, for starters. New band, for second. I’m twenty-five years older than when the Stone Hearts hit big. But the biggest difference is, this time, everyone I care about is here.
Backstage, if you can call it that, is weirdly as chaotic as the old days.
The venue is Derby Lanes, a bowling alley with a new addition featuring an arcade and multi-use space with a small stage on one end.
My kids and their friends hog the ratty couch stuffed behind the door marked Staff Only.
What was supposed to be a few friends of my girlfriend saying hello turns into nine people from a Stone Hearts fan club who drove hours to meet me.
“We need a photo,” one the fan club members says.
She rocks black and purple hair and wears a Stone Hearts 2004 tour shirt.
She pushes Valerie and me together for a shot.
“When I found out Val from the club was actually dating Ian Heartbreak, it was too perfect. You know I’m a romance author?
You two inspired my next story. I’m writing it now. ”
My ego must have really mellowed out in recent years because this attention forces a blush out of me. “A romance story? About us?”
Valerie looks up at me as her friend snaps another pic. “What? Too soon?”
She has my heart. Probably for good. “I never thought I’d inspire a character for a book. That’s pretty cool.”
Tonight, Valerie is all dolled up. Thick red tights and a black dress, her Doc Martens, cherry red lips, and hair loose and free.
She runs a finger across my forearm that’s better than air conditioning. “The library crew wants to come backstage. I told them to wait until after the show.”
“You’re the boss.” Literally. She’s head librarian, as she should be.
She made a few immediate changes including expanding the teen gaming program and hiring a new children’s and young adult librarian.
Our town was offered funding opportunities from some kid who sold his start-up and came back to Derby to invest in his hometown.
Okay, he’s not a kid, but I’ve got nearly twenty years on him.
I wish I’d had the foresight to come back here before I did.
Maybe Valerie and I would have had more time together.
Or maybe we met again at just the right time.
“You’re not going to believe who else is here,” she says.
“A label exec from Geffen Records?”
“A gray-haired retiree trying to make amends.”
“No.”
She shrugs. “Even elder crones deserve second chances, don’t they?”
Seems like a song in there somewhere, but I’ll have to think on that.
My new lead guitarist taps my shoulder. “Ready?”
I grab my bass. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Wait, not ready.
I swing back to my girl, my Valerie. I land a kiss on her cheek. Don’t want to ruin her lipstick.
She tugs me back, pulling me down to join our lips. A real kiss. One that makes me feel like we have all the time in the world.
Stephanie J. Scott writes light-hearted, quirky romance and young adult.
She enjoys dance fitness, everything cats, and has a slight obsession with Instagram.
A Midwest girl at heart, she resides outside of Chicago with her tech-of-all-trades husband and fuzzy furbabies.